The world felt surreal in the moments leading up to the hospital visit. Zakirah sat quietly in the passenger seat of Omar's car, her fingers nervously tapping against her lap. Her heart-a heart that had been both the source of her greatest strength and her deepest fear-had been acting up again. She had tried to ignore the signs, tried to convince herself it was nothing, but this time, the pressure in her chest, the shortness of breath, the dizziness... it was more than she could brush aside.

Omar had insisted, of course. He was always insistent when it came to her health, never willing to take any chances. He had been calm about it, but Zakirah could feel the tension radiating off him. His hand, which was usually so steady and composed, gripped the steering wheel with a strength that spoke volumes of the worry he tried to mask.

She glanced over at him. His jaw was clenched, eyes fixed on the road ahead, but she could tell he wasn't fully present in the moment. His mind was elsewhere, caught in the turmoil of what was to come.

She wanted to comfort him, to tell him that everything would be fine, but she wasn't sure she believed it herself. This wasn't just a routine check-up. This wasn't just another visit to the doctor. It was a confrontation with the reality of her condition-the reality that every beat of her heart might one day be her last.

The silence in the car was suffocating. Zakirah had always been good at hiding her fears, keeping them buried deep inside, but today, it felt impossible to push them away. As they pulled into the hospital parking lot, she felt her chest tighten, her throat constricting. She closed her eyes briefly, willing herself to remain calm.

When Omar parked the car and turned off the engine, Zakirah hesitated. He didn't say anything, but she could feel the weight of his gaze on her. She opened her eyes, meeting his for the first time since they left the house.

"Zakirah," he said, his voice soft but firm. "You don't have to do this alone. I'm with you, every step of the way."

She nodded, but the lump in her throat made it hard to speak. She felt the familiar flutter of nerves in her chest, but this time, it wasn't from the usual anxiety-this time, it was the fear of the unknown, the fear of what might happen once they walked through those doors.

Omar didn't wait for her to say anything more. He opened the door for her, his large hand extending to help her out of the car. She placed her hand in his, feeling the warmth of his touch as he pulled her gently to her feet. His eyes locked onto hers, searching her face as if trying to read every emotion that flickered there.

"I'm not going anywhere," he whispered again, the words as much for himself as for her.

They walked into the hospital together, side by side, and Zakirah couldn't help but notice how different things felt now-how much closer they had become. The man who had once been a stranger, who had been so distant, was now the one holding her hand as they walked into this world of uncertainty. He was here, with her, in a way that was both reassuring and terrifying.

The sterile scent of the hospital hit her as soon as they stepped through the doors. It was familiar, something she had become accustomed to over the years, but today it felt suffocating. She squeezed his hand a little tighter, needing the comfort of his presence, needing the steady warmth he always offered.

Omar led her to the waiting area, his eyes scanning the room as if on alert, as though he was expecting something-or someone-to be a threat. It made her smile, in spite of everything. He was always so protective, so on edge when it came to her.

After a few moments, a nurse came to escort them to the examination room. Zakirah's breath caught in her throat as they walked, and her hand, still held tightly by Omar's, began to tremble.

As they entered the small examination room, she took a seat on the hospital bed, looking around as the nurse prepped the room for her check-up. Omar stood by the door, his arms crossed over his chest, his face unreadable but his body tense.

It was then that the doctor came in-Dr. Hadiya, a calm woman in her forties who had been treating Zakirah for years. She greeted them both with a warm smile, but Zakirah could sense the shift in the atmosphere as soon as the doctor took Zakirah's pulse. She felt the pressure of Omar's eyes on her, his gaze heavy, protective, as if watching her every move.

"How have you been feeling, Zakirah?" Dr. Hadiya asked, her voice gentle but serious.

Zakirah hesitated before answering. "I've been... okay," she lied, forcing a smile. "Just a little more tired than usual."

The doctor raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. "I'm going to run a few tests, just to be sure. We'll get to the bottom of this."

Zakirah nodded, feeling a sense of dread building inside her. As the nurse ran the tests, Omar stood close by, never straying far from her. She could feel his eyes on her, a constant weight of concern that made her chest tighten even further.

It felt like an eternity before the results came in. The doctor's expression had changed slightly when she reviewed the chart, her brows furrowing in concentration. Zakirah's heart skipped a beat as she watched Dr. Hadiya walk over to her, the look on her face more serious now.

"Zakirah," Dr. Hadiya began softly, "the results aren't as good as we hoped."

Zakirah felt her heart sink in her chest. She turned to Omar, but his face was already tight with worry. He had heard every word.

"What does that mean?" he asked, his voice strained. His hand, which had been gently resting on her shoulder, now gripped it a little tighter.

Dr. Hadiya hesitated, clearly reluctant to say it aloud, but she knew Omar wouldn't back down.

"It means," she said slowly, "that Zakirah's heart is weakening. We need to take more immediate action. It's no longer just about managing symptoms. We're looking at a more serious situation."

Zakirah's vision blurred, her throat closing up as panic set in. She didn't want to hear this. She didn't want to face this reality. She had tried so hard to ignore it, to live as though everything was normal.

But now, she couldn't deny it anymore.

Omar's eyes flickered between Zakirah and the doctor, his expression changing from shock to something far deeper-something he hadn't shown her before. Fear. Pure, unadulterated fear. The man who had once been so strong, so composed, was unraveling before her eyes.

Without thinking, he reached for her, pulling her into his arms. His grip was tight, desperate, as though holding onto her was the only thing keeping him from falling apart.

"Omar..." Zakirah whispered, her voice trembling. "I'm scared. What if I... what if I don't have much time left?"

She could feel his body shudder, the rawness of his emotions spilling over in the form of a single tear that fell from his eye and landed in her hair. His arms tightened around her even more, as if he couldn't bear to let her go.

"Don't talk like that," he whispered, his voice broken. "Please, Zakirah. You don't get to leave me."

He kissed her forehead gently, his hand trembling as he stroked her hair. "You're my everything, you hear me? You're all I have. I can't lose you. Not like this. I can't... I don't know what I would do without you."

She felt his tears soak into her hair as he held her. And for the first time, she realized just how much he had come to care for her. The man who had been so emotionally distant, who had kept his heart locked away, was now holding her with a desperation she hadn't thought possible.

"I'm here, Omar," she whispered, her voice breaking. "I'm here."

But inside, she wasn't sure how much longer she could keep fighting. The weight of her own fragility felt unbearable now. And as much as she wanted to reassure him, she wasn't sure if she could promise him anything anymore.

End of Chapter 21